The Power He Knows Not
by DarthMittens
Summary: Harry's sitting by the lake during the night following the Final Battle thinking depressing thoughts. Who better to cheer him up than Hermione? One-shot.


**A/N: Just another one of those one-shots (idea provided by Lycus). If you have any good H/HR ideas for me to write, please just PM me! I'd be ever so grateful and happy to write them!**

**Takes place the night after the Final Battle. Deathly Hallows movie part 1 compliant.**

**The Power He Knows Not**

The water of the lake looked so peaceful, so serene. The surface was so smooth. A cursory glance at the dark blue water would make one think that it was perfectly still.

But it wasn't.

Underneath that lake were thousands of beings—fish, frogs, snails, plants, giant squids—that never stopped moving. It was an endless stream of movement underneath the still façade.

And that was what Harry felt like exactly.

He was sitting on a small ledge about five feet over the water's surface, his legs dangling down. There was a soft breeze playing with his hair and the millions of stars visible lit up the sky with their glowing radiance.

But Harry wasn't paying attention to the stars, or the breeze, or even the lake even though he was staring at it. He was reliving the past 17 years of his life; what he could've done differently to avoid what had happened the previous night.

'The Battle for Hogwarts' is what most in the wizarding world were already calling it. Harry wouldn't call it that. He would most likely call it 'The Night of Senseless Death' or something like that.

Because that's what it was.

Lupin, Tonks, Fred, Collin, and many more died just to stop a madman with medieval views. If the Ministry of Magic had actually done their duty or had made an attempt to modernize the wizarding community, then none of this would've ever happened.

At least it was finally over. There would be no more need for anyone to die senselessly.

But now that the business with Voldemort _was _finally over, Harry had absolutely no idea what to do with himself. It was always Voldemort this, school that. And now he was done with both.

"Knut for your thoughts?" asked an angelic voice from his side.

Harry was amazed to find Hermione seated right next to him in an identical position to his. Had he really been so deep in thought that he hadn't noticed her approach?

"No, I'm alright," said Harry, not wishing to burden Hermione with his troubles. She had enough of her own, with having to track down her parents in Australia and reverse the memory charm.

"Harry," Hermione said in that don't-lie-to-me tone of voice. "Can't you ever just open up to someone even once? We _have _been best friends for six years now. I know you wouldn't be sitting at the side of the lake without a sweatshirt at three in the morning unless you were in deep thought."

Harry sighed, running a hand through his hair. Hermione was right, not to mention the fact that she was best suited to help him work through his problems. She always was.

"A lot of people died, Hermione," said Harry quietly. "Died because of choices _I _made."

"Harry, everyone knew what they were getting in to," said Hermione, reaching a hand out to squeeze his upper arm. "You need to stop blaming yourself."

Harry knew that if he continued with that subject, Hermione would continue to tell him not to blame himself. Sometimes, despite how smart she was, Hermione just couldn't understand. "Also," said Harry, "What do I do now? Everything that defined me, who I was, it's all gone. What's next?"

Hermione furrowed her eyebrows in thought. "I can only give you suggestions, Harry," she said. "What you make of your future is entirely up to you. And for the record, I don't think you should let a monster like Voldemort define who you are. It seems sort of like a victory for him, some last twisted parting gift."

Harry was amazed (as always) by Hermione. Her intellect and her ability to say the right thing at the right time astounded him. "I'm not exactly letting him define me," Harry half-lied. "I just don't know what to do next."

"Do whatever you want," Hermione said with a smile. "You've got your whole life ahead of you."

"But I don't _know_ what I want to do," Harry said, opening up his feelings to Hermione more. "Everyone expects so much of the boy-who-won or whatever rubbish they're calling me now. I'm a bloody icon, and my every move is being watched. I received over one hundred fifty job offers yesterday and was contacted by every Quidditch Team in the United Kingdom."

"It sounds to me like you already do know what you want," said Hermione.

"It does?" asked Harry.

"All you want to be is normal," said Hermione. "You want to be 'just Harry.'"

"That's the bloody problem!" exclaimed Harry, jumping up to his feet and pacing back and forth. "I can't be just Harry! If I settle down and act like a normal person, I feel like I'll be letting everyone down or something! They all expect great things from me, Hermione, and I'll be damned to hell if I do otherwise!"

Hermione scoffed. "And why do you care what they think?" she asked.

"Because I…" said Harry, fishing for words, "…I…I don't know why," he finished lamely. "I'm so bloody confused!"

He flopped back down on the ground next to Hermione, who said, "I'll tell you what I think you should do."

"And what is that?" asked Harry a bit petulantly.

"Take a year off," said Hermione, ignoring Harry's agitated state. "Travel the world, write a book, do something you _want _to do without worrying about anyone but yourself." She gave him a smile. "You could always travel to Australia with me if you want. With your pale skin and jet-black hair you'll fit right in."

Harry cracked a smile, which turned into a laugh along with Hermione's. "Thanks, Hermione," he said after they had calmed down. "I'm glad you're here to help me…like usual," he finished with a grin.

"It's sad to think that my position as 'the-one-to-go-to' will be taken by Ginny in the near future," Hermione said with a chuckle though no humor showed in her eyes. All Harry saw was sadness. Hermione looked away over the lake and wistfully said, "She'll make you happy."

Harry looked over the lake like Hermione. "No she won't," he said simply.

Hermione did a double-take in Harry's direction. "What? Why not? I saw you two kissing in the common room just after dinner."

"We only kissed once," Harry explained. "The spark we had, the attraction—well, at least on my part—isn't there anymore. I think I only got with her in the first place was because of the situation I was in. I…I now realize that I was just subconsciously using her to escape, an action which I still regret. I told her I didn't think it work out between us and she went into denial, saying that she would be waiting for me when I came to my senses and wanted to raise a perfect family," he said, shaking his head. "Harry: zero, World…I don't know, too many to count." He looked at Hermione out of the corner of his eye and asked, "What about you and Ron? You two an item now?"

Hermione snorted, shaking her head. "Merlin, no," she said. "I really regret kissing him during the battle now. Did you see him today when the press showed up. If I hadn't known any better I would've thought he single-handedly killed all the Death Eaters and beat Voldemort, all with his right hand tied behind his back." She clenched her hands into fists. "The nerve of him. He failed to mention the fact that he ran out on us."

"Oh well," said Harry. "At least he finally has the fame he always wanted."

"He wishes," Hermione scoffed. "I confronted him in front of everybody and told him to tell them the truth, including the fact that he abandoned us. I even gave him a nickname: 'The-Boy-Who-Ran.' That's the only thing he'll be famous for."

"I don't think it matters to Ron why he's famous," said Harry thoughtfully. "He's probably enjoying all the attention, even if it is bad attention."

Hermione looked over at Harry, staring at his profile as he continued to gaze at the lake, seeming to fall back into his thoughtful mode. A scary thought striking her, she got up and kneeled behind him before wrapping her arms around his torso, burying her face in his shoulder. "I'm so glad you survived, Harry," she said quietly, Harry's shirt muffling her words.

She made to pull back, but Harry caught one of her wrists and held it, brushing the fingers of his other hand along her inner forearm. She too was wearing a T-shirt, and she knew exactly what Harry was ever-so gently tracing. "I'm so sorry, Hermione," he whispered. "That one really was my fault."

Hermione gently pulled her arm free of Harry's hand and sat back down next to him a bit closer than she previously had been, examining the harsh pink lines of her recently-acquired scars that formed the word 'mudblood'. When she looked back up at Harry, her eyes were glistening. But Harry couldn't tell if it was because she was sad or for some other reason. "I knew you'd come for me," Hermione softly said, staring deep into Harry's eyes.

Harry brought his face up to Hermione's until it was only a few inches away from hers. "I'd never let anything happen to my girl…my Hermione," he whispered before tentatively brushed his lips against Hermione's.

He began to move back out of worry that he'd misread the signals Hermione had given him, but one of her arms came up to the back of his neck, holding his head in place.

They both melted into the kiss, pouring all the love they could muster into it. After having danced around and having ignored their feelings for so long, they were finally kissing their one true love. They could feel the other's love through each other's mouths, and the kiss grew more passionate as their tongues met and danced.

Harry slipped the Elder Wand out of his back pocket and gently pressed against Hermione's arm. He focused his love and his feelings for Hermione into the wand much as he would with happy feelings when casting his patronus. He didn't know any healing incantations, but without knowing what he was saying he mumbled something into Hermione's mouth.

Hermione felt her arm grow arm where her scar was, and she reluctantly broke the kiss with Harry to see what it is. She blinked and continued staring at her arm. The scar was completely gone, her arm back to its old flawlessness (but for one or two stray freckles). Oddly, her arm felt like it was somehow infused with love. It felt like Harry's love.

She smiled at him. Her true love. Her only reason worth living.

And he smiled back.

And they both knew what they were saying with those smiles.

_I love you_.

**A/N: I hope you enjoyed another one of my one-shots that I wrote between 12 AM and 2 AM (For some reason that seems to be when I write best). And if you didn't…well, I'm very sorry to hear that.**

**Thank you for reading and please review!**


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